Authors: Tamara Cape
“Chad, I have to say no, reluctantly.” To Kerry the words seemed to be coming from someone else. “My holiday arrangements are already made. But thank you so much for asking.”
The artist’s
eyes darkened. They narrowed as the thin smile faded. He stood up abruptly.
“You’ve wasted my time
.”
Kerry
felt numbed with outraged shock. “That’s absurd! How can you –”
“Earlier you sounded so eager to experience wild Africa. I thought you’d jump at the chance.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the outcome. “Well, it’s
your
loss.”
With a muttered farewell that barely carried to her, he turned and marched to the door without a backward glance.
***
Kerry returned to her room feeling hurt, disappointed and angry. It had ended so abruptly and unsatisfactorily. He might at least have stayed on to talk. But as suddenly as he had appeared in her life he had departed – rudely and without thought to her feelings. What an arrogant and headstrong man
.
The only thing left to remind her of their brief encounter was his business card. Decisions change lives, she reflected. It could so easily have turned out differently.
Her thoughts gradually mellowed. Chad Lindsay, if he could be believed, was a successful artist. He worked on his own. Perhaps what she had thought rudeness was just that male independence asserting itself.
What did it matter? She never would learn the truth.
The significance of his offer played over and over in her mind. Spending time with Chad would have been invaluable experience, torn as she was over her future. Her dissatisfaction with her working life, of being a small cog in a very large wheel, had been growing for some time. Her mother’s death from Deep Vein Thrombosis the previous year – gone suddenly at the age of fifty, a week after their return from a Bali holiday – had devastated Kerry. Flying had killed her mum, leaving Kerry questioning everything she had until then taken for granted. Gradually, she had charted a new course. She needed advice, guidance and encouragement if she was to follow her heart’s desire – which was to put her experience to use and become a freelance travel writer. Words held no fear for her: she had kept a daily journal since her schooldays. Chad – a creative, self-made man who had carved out a rewarding niche for himself in a competitive field – would have been an ideal confidant.
Sadly, it was not to be.
Before leaving Johannesburg she sent him a note regretting that she had been unable to accept his kind offer. She wished him luck in his career, promising to look out for his paintings.
And that, so far as she was concerned, was the end of the matter.
***
And indeed it seemed to be . . . until a few weeks later after Sunday lunch with her father at their Sussex village home – their first meeting since the Johannesburg stopover – maps were pored over, rivers and lochs pinpointed, the whole holiday itinerary discussed, and she found her
attention wavering as she remembered Chad Lindsay.
Her dad recognised at once that something was wrong. Kerry found that she had no wish to keep it a secret a moment longer.
“You should have told me,” he said after hearing the story. “I can go up to Scotland alone.”
“Dad, are you serious? I hardly know the man.”
“Perfectly serious. Oh, it would have been frowned upon in the past. But times have changed.”
“Dad, please!
Travelling all that way with a man who appears at your door out of the blue. Anyway, I’ve already turned him down and been insulted for my temerity – so it’s out of the question.”
Her father smiled. “Yet you still cannot force closure on it. Okay, let’s hear it – in what way did he insult you?”
“After I had said no, he claimed I’d wasted his time. Damned cheek!”
The smile widened into a deep chuckle.
“Ah! – a common failing in men when rebuffed by the fairer sex. His pride was wounded – so he hit back.” He paused, then added. “Heat of the moment. I think we can forgive him that, don’t you?”
Kerry sat staring out the window. Her father got to his feet.
“I’ll make us a cup of Earl Grey. Help smooth your ruffled feathers.”
“Let’s get to the heart of the matter,” he said a few minutes later, placing the tea on the table. “Would you rather holiday in Scotland or Zimbabwe?” He paused briefly.
“A no-brainer. You’ve always loved Africa. I must say this chap sounds reasonable to me. It’s not like he’s some drug-crazed pop star or rich-but-semi-literate sportsman. And you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself.” He smiled at her lovingly. “The only thing to add is that the next step must come from you. He’s not going to try again from his end.”
Kerry sat back and considered his words. Since he’d become a widower, she visited as often as possible from her flat in Kingston. At first she had worried. How would he cope alone after twenty-five years of marriage? To her relief she had found that – unlike many recently bereaved men – her dad was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His forces background had taught him discipline, self-sufficiency and how to improvise. If he didn’t know something, he researched it and learned. In the short space of a year –
starting from scratch – he had become a better, more adventurous, cook than her. He took early retirement from his job, but was never idle. He had his pals at the golf club and several times a year he disappeared on fishing trips. He and Kerry’s mum had been devoted to each other and her untimely death had been a cruel blow. He could have fallen into a downward spiral of depression, drinking and self-neglect. That he had not done so, but instead had embraced and fought the new challenges head-on, Kerry found admirable, and she loved him for it. She looked forward to their meetings and was sure it was just a question of time before he announced there was a new woman in his life.
“Well?” he pressed, his eyes sparkling. “Which do you fancy more – midge bites by a Scottish loch or mosquito bites by the Zambezi?” He was clearly enjoying this intriguing adventure. Kerry hadn’t seen him so animated since their family holiday in Bali.
“But it’s too late,” she protested, setting down her teacup. “I had my chance and blew it. He’s a handsome guy – not short of female admirers, if I’m any judge. He’ll have found someone else.”
“Unlikely,” her father encouraged. “A chap doesn’t invite just anyone along on such a trip.”
The tension that had gripped Kerry for weeks was suddenly gone. She would take that next step – whatever the result.
“I’ll write to him saying my circumstances have changed.” Kerry’s smile faded and a note of doubt crept into her voice. “It’ll all be for nothing, I’m sure.”
“You can try at least.”
“One thing, Dad,” she said thoughtfully. “
His work – I’ve been wondering how I might obtain a professional opinion.”
“His paintings?
Simple. Both Sotheby’s and Christie’s have offices and agents around the world. They’ll have someone in South Africa with an intimate knowledge of the local art scene. Phone them . . . no, it’s Sunday . . . tomorrow – get the address of their South African office. Then write to their chappie there asking about . . . whatsisname? . . . Lindsay. Say you’re a collector and his name has come to your notice. Want me to do it for you?”
“Oh, please, Dad. I’ve got a hectic schedule next week.”
“That’s settled then,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll keep me informed of developments?”
“Of course – but don’t raise your hopes too high.”
***
The e-mail from South Africa arrived a few days later. Kerry’s father forwarded it to her.
. . .
Chad Lindsay is one of a new generation of South African artists to emerge in the last five or six years, and he is without doubt one of the most talented. He spends long periods in the field and is respected as a professional who knows his subject. We have noticed a steadily increasing demand for his work, especially from overseas collectors. If David Shepherd represents the pinnacle of success in wildlife painting, then Chad Lindsay is not far behind. Indeed, the two are more and more being talked about in the same breath.
He is c
ertainly an artist with a future . . .
Kerry had done her own internet research. She was shocked to learn just how much money a Lindsay original fetched on the rare occasions one came up for auction. If not already a millionaire, he was well on his way to reaching that milestone.
Personnel gave qualified agreement to her request to have her leave put back to October. Nothing could be guaranteed though without specific dates.
And still there was no word from him.
After each working trip Kerry eagerly checked her e-mail – only to be disappointed. Weeks passed and her hopes plummeted. She became grumpy and showed little tolerance to passengers making unreasonable demands of her time. Personnel sent her a sharply-worded reminder that they still had not received dates for her leave. Her father phoned several times, wanting to know the latest. Each time their conversation was uncharacteristically brief. There was little to say and Kerry was in no mood for idle gossip.
She felt hurt – worse, she felt humiliated, sure she had made a complete fool of herself.
***
Chad was relieved to be back in Johannesburg. The trip to northern Namibia had been long and tiring, albeit satisfying. It was a fabulous terrain, rich in wildlife and with some plant species found nowhere else. The high dunes of the Namib would be a challenge to capture on canvas.
On the flight back from Windhoek he had found himself staring at the crew when they passed his seat. He had thought of the Pommy stewardess, Kerry, remembering their meeting. Once or twice during game-spotting drives he had looked across to the empty passenger seat and imagined her there.
Now as he strode purposefully through Arrivals he kept his eyes peeled. Silly, he thought.
Snowball’s chance in hell of seeing her again.
Where is she now?
he wondered. What is she doing?
***
One day – when Kerry had almost put the whole business out of her mind – she found his e-mail in her inbox. She gave a little cry, a mixture of surprise and delight.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it. She paused before beginning to read. The time span between their letters told her to expect bad news. Chad obviously had had more important things to think about. She was not a priority. She prepared herself for disappointment.
. . . been on an extended trip to the Kaokoveld region of Namibia to find and photograph a unique herd of desert elephants
, Kerry read – her excitement such that she hardly dared breathe. She skipped through his descriptions of the beasts, terrain and 4-wheel drive vehicle he’d hired.
The trip was a success and should result in several good paintings. Got back only an hour ago, found your letter and hasten to write knowing how concerned you must be at the delay.
Yes, the offer is still open
. . . Yippy Yiiiiiigh! Kerry felt her heart leap with joy . . .
Leave for Zimbabwe on the morning of October 5th. Can you arrange to arrive in Jo’burg a day or two
earlier?
If this date doesn’t suit, you can arrive later and fly up to Bulawayo where I will meet you
. He could not alter the starting date as accommodations in the national parks were already booked. He hoped the arrangement suited her and asked to be advised of her arrival details. Any questions regarding their route, animals they could expect to see or what she should bring, he would be happy to answer.
Kerry reread Chad’s e-mail just to reassure herself she had not dreamed it. She phoned her dad, catching him as he was about to leave for the golf club.
“Wonderful! Wonderful news!” he cried. “I’m truly delighted, my dear. Tonight I shall celebrate with a drop o’ the hard stuff – as your dear mother would have put it.”
Kerry smiled at his fair imitation of her mum’s Galway brogue. She pictured him opening one of the bottles of expensive single malts he reserved for special occasions. She herself planned to have a quiet drink in celebration.
***
Time seemed to pass with agonizing slowness.
Every day in her head she went over her meeting with Chad, trying to recall each word he had uttered. The only disappointment in his e-mail was the lack, or even hint, of an apology over his abrupt departure from the hotel.
Okay, he had written in a rush and weeks had passed since their meeting. But Kerry had the uneasy feeling that Chad Lindsay didn’t do apologies.
She was under no illusion that the trip would be a bed of roses. Many successful people were a pain – haughty, egotistical, and demanding. She had met plenty – business and sporting types, A and B-list celebs – in First Class, where they expected stewardesses to be forever at their beck and call.
It remained to be seen whether Chad fell into this category. His behaviour during their only meeting to date had been a mix of uplifting,
adventurous talk followed by a show of petulance worthy of a spoilt child.
Which was the
real
Chad Lindsay? Only time would tell.